Elfling at Heart
by Lakil
Summary: When the Prince of Mirkwood is mysteriously transformed into a tiny elfling again, how will everyone-and the prince himself-learn to live with this predicament until a solution is found? Or will he have to grow up all over again? De-aged Legolas. NOT SLASH!
1. Chapter 1

**I was looking for a story like this, but unfortunately I only found one and it was a parody story. So I decided to create my own. This is after the ring…no Sauron or any of that fun stuff. Let me know what you think as I am pretty nervous about posting this. I have always loved the LOTR movies, but I haven't read the books…I know you guys are pretty serious about your LOTR stuff, so I'm going to TRY not to mess anything up. Please correct me if I do, but no harsh reviews or flames please…thank you and I hope you enjoy. **

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE LORD OF THE RINGS. ALL BELONGS TO J.R.R. TOLKIEN ASIDE FROM MY ORIGINAL CHARACTERS.**

Aragorn's blue eyes shot open as his mind tried to catch up and focus on what had roused him from his slumber. He sat very still, craning his neck and straining his ears; listening for any slight disturbance in the nearly silent atmosphere. He could hear the horses' deep nickering, their hooves pawing at the moist earth. He waited for the soft thud of an elf's boots or whispers of his fair-haired friend calming the animals. When neither came, he darted up off the soil and out into the dense forest. It was still dark, though he could see the sky starting to lighten and the stars dim.

He expected to see the still figure of Legolas keeping watch, but instead found the area empty aside from the two horses tethered to a nearby tree. A sorrel mare and grey gelding, both roughly sixteen hands, lifted their heads and nickered to the dark-haired man. The young mare threw her head, distressed by something Aragorn could not define. The silver gelding turned and pricked his ears to the east as he danced nervously in place. Aragorn suddenly feared for his elven friend. He knew Legolas was quite capable of taking care of himself, but the uneasiness he felt did not cease.

Aragorn followed the direction horse's ears further into the foliage. He drew his sword, holding it tightly in his two hands while listening closely. He inched further into the trees, stepping lightly to avoid making himself known. Rustling in the bushes came from ahead.

"Reveal yourself!" he demanded, raising his sword and tightening his grip.

He paused. Did he just hear...a sob? The warrior dashed toward the shrub and whipped around to the other side, pointing his sword directly into the face of...a tiny elfling drowning in a sea of clothing much too big for him. Clothing that belonged to none other than the Prince of Mirkwood himself.

**Well, I hope you enjoyed. I know it was extremely short! I promise the subsequent chapters will be much longer. Please review and tell me what you liked/didn't like. I'm new to FF and not entirely sure how it works, but if anyone would like to help me out with this story that would be excellent as I know I am not the expert on Middle Earth as many of you are and may need some help sorting some things out further in the story…thank you for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again readers. Thank you for the lovely reviews! Hope you enjoy.**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN LORD OF THE RINGS **

Aragorn stood frozen in shock as he examined the small being before him. Though he looked no older than a human child of two years, his light locks fell beyond his shoulders and flowed across small, pointed ears. Familiar blue eyes stared up at him with uncertainty, clouded by tears and rimmed with puffy redness. Streams of the clear liquid trailed down his chubby cheeks, trickling under his chin and dropping onto the green tunic he was seemingly trapped in. The elfling's bottom lip jutted out and he gripped the dark fabric as he trembled. His milky complexion was illuminated by the darkness of the early morning. A wooden bow, nearly six times the length of him, lay behind him, along with his quiver and a few stray arrows splayed across the forest floor.

It couldn't be, _could it_?

"Legolas?" The dark man choked out.

The distressed child nodded slowly. The tears flowed stronger now. Aragorn knelt down and extended a calloused hand toward him. Legolas tried to move but frowned as he found himself stuck in the heavy material. Aragorn lowered himself beside the little blond elf and began removing the layers of clothing and tossing them to the side. He wrapped the boy tightly in the thick fabric of his own cloak.

Aragorn scooped up the little warrior as well as his bow and arrows and—still not entirely believing what he was doing—carried him back to the tree where their horses stood. The gelding's head whipped up and he nickered deeply, recognizing his elf despite his change in appearance. Aragorn set Legolas in front of a large boulder and quickly began tacking both horses. When he had finished, the sun was rising and he glanced over to find his friend examining a fistful of soil and dead leaves. Aragorn strode toward the child and quickly lifted him back into his arms. He mounted his fiery red mare, looping the gelding's reins through a ring on his saddle. Muscled legs nudged his horse into a swift canter as he held tightly to the bundle in his arm, Legolas's gelding following beside.

Legolas leaned into Aragorn's chest, savoring the comfort and protection of him and the cloak. He pondered his predicament, trying to make sense of it all. He knew who he was, right? He was the exceptionally skilled Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood. He knew who this man—Aragorn—was; a dear friend and companion. He knew this, but was unable to recall any memories or adventures they had shared, no matter how hard he wracked his tiny brain. Why was he a child? The elfling became incredibly frustrated at his lack of memory, his face heating up and tears threatening to fall. He did not understand why he felt this way. He was so upset and he could not control himself. All he wanted was a nap and his ada.

_Ada_.

The tears did begin to fall then. Heavily. He longed for the strong, loving embrace of his father. He could not explain why the feeling was so strong, but he wanted his ada, and he wanted him _now_. He struggled in Aragorn's arms. "I want Ada!" he cried, trying to climb out of the man's hold. The larger of the two held his steel embrace, leaving the Legolas wailing and clawing at his clothing.

Eventually the fair-headed elfling succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep with two of his tiny fingers in his mouth.

Surprisingly, elfling had only woken a few times throughout the ride. A couple times he had nudged Aragorn for a drink from his waterskin and the other was another call for his ada.

"You will see him soon enough…" Aragorn had whispered.

After Legolas's tantrum, he realized his friend may not remember much—if anything—of his adult life. In a way, it hurt. The long treacherous journey they had taken, the friendships they had formed—all gone. _What if he never got those memories back?_ He knew he would question his elven friend when he was in a state to talk. The main priority had been getting him to a safe place. Aragorn's brow knit together as he tried to think of a way to explain this situation. Coming up with nothing sounding short of ridiculous, he exhaled and glanced at his sleeping charge, almost smiling at the peaceful look on his old friend's face.

A chilly breeze swept the air as a two horses, a man, and an elfling approached Thranduil's halls.

**Yes, not as long as I had hoped either. But I wanted Thranduil's reaction in a separate chapter, so I hope this sufficed. Thanks for reading, please review! It certainly helps me update faster ;)**

**Also, just to clear some things up: An intact male horse is a stallion. A castrated male is a gelding. A female horse is a mare. I often read fanfics where female horses are being described as stallions, etc. So just a fun lil fact for ya, although I'm sure many of you already know this. :)**


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